Pretty Much the Same
by Suspicious Popsicle
Summary: A Fluri series featuring Flynn and Yuri as women.
1. For a Special Occasion

A/N: So, I wrote this story a while back on a whim, and it sort of turned into a series of shorts featuring Flynn and Yuri as girls. Enjoy. =)

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

* * *

Flynn pushed the curtain aside and took a step out of the cubicle. She peered left and right, but the dressing room area was deserted.

"Yuri...?"

"Are you done? Can we go?" Yuri's voice came floating to her from just outside, and Flynn could picture her slumped in one of the chairs thoughtfully placed nearby for bored spouses. She rolled her eyes. Yuri could be such a _guy_ sometimes.

"No, I'm not done. Come take a look."

Twisting in front of the mirror, she tugged at the dress she'd tried on, adjusting the fall of the skirt. It was pretty, if a bit simple; a sky blue dress with an empire waist and a flared skirt that fell just to her knees. She wondered if it was formal enough. Maybe something a bit longer, an A-line definitely. She'd never looked all that good in the sheath-cut...

Yuri appeared behind her and leaned against the opening to the cubicle. She was wearing a crop top and carpenters over combat boots. A slouchy beanie perched atop her hair. She gave Flynn a once-over and a thumbs up.

"It looks good. Get it."

"I don't know." She smoothed the skirt down as she studied her reflection. "Do you think it's too...I don't know, informal?"

"You're asking the wrong person."

"Would it kill you to pretend to care?"

Yuri groaned and slouched further against the wall. "I _hate_ clothes shopping."

"You knew this was one of the errands I had to run when we left. Either stop complaining or go back and sit with the boyfriends." Flynn started to unzip the back of the dress, but paused when Yuri didn't leave. She turned back to face her poor, long-suffering girlfriend. "Go on. And pull the curtain closed behind you."

The grin that spread across Yuri's face was pure, gleeful mischief. "Okay." She stepped fully into the changing room and, as ordered, drew the curtain closed behind her. "Let me help you out of that."

Reflexively, Flynn crossed her arms protectively over the dress. "This is not the place."

"It's a dressing room, Flynn. It's _literally_ the place."

"Not for what you're thinking."

Backing into the corner, her legs caught up against the small seat and she ended up leaning backwards over it against the far wall. The hem of the skirt swayed, tickling her bare skin as Yuri stepped in close. Her arms were warm around Flynn as she felt for the zipper.

"Come on." Yuri murmured the words against Flynn's cheek. "I'm just giving you a hand. Nothing wrong with that."

The zipper sighed as she tugged it down, loosening the bodice of the dress enough that it sagged. Nuzzling Flynn's neck, she reached up to pull the sleeves down and bare her shoulders. Then, with one, brief kiss just above Flynn's breasts, she straightened up. She looked altogether too pleased with herself as her hands settled at Flynn's waist.

"See? Just helping."

"Right."

Knowing that she was blushing, Flynn was careful not to glance back at the mirror as she slipped the dress off and hung it back up. Yuri didn't give her a hair's breadth more space than she needed, and she was standing between Flynn and her clothes.

"I can handle the rest without you."

Yuri reached out to snap her bra strap. "You should get a new bra while we're here. This one's kind of boring."

"Weren't you just complaining about clothes shopping?"

She tilted her head, pretending to consider the question. "You need cuter bras."

"You need to get out of my way so I can get dressed and find something else to try on." She shouldered past Yuri to grab her shirt off the hook on the wall. "I know you're bored. I'll try to be quick, and then we can go get lunch."

"All right, all right." Yuri pinched her waist and slipped out to go find a way to kill time.

They only spent about another half hour in the store. On her second pass through the dress section, Flynn found something a bit more formal that she decided would work nicely. The dress she picked out was midnight blue with a calf-length skirt. It had straps rather than proper sleeves, which was a minus, but she found a lacy, white shawl to wear with it. She even picked out a new bra and panty set when Yuri wasn't looking—royal blue and edged with snowy lace. It would be a fun surprise for later. After paying for her new outfit, Flynn went to collect Yuri so that they could go get lunch.

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want to come with me tonight?" Flynn asked.

Leaning closer to the bathroom mirror, she studied her appearance. Her hair was as well-tamed as she could manage, held back with hairspray and prayers. She thought fleetingly again of letting it grow out, but she'd never found a manageable length past a couple of inches. A touch of eyeliner darkened the edges of her eyelids. That and a hint of lip gloss would be it as far as makeup went. She puckered up and applied the gloss, pressing her lips together to smooth it out.

As she capped the tube and slipped it into her clutch, Yuri appeared in the hallway behind her. She was dressed for the gym in sweats and an old, white t-shirt that didn't hide the hazy outline of her black sports bra. Even though she hadn't done anything to enhance her appearance, she was still gorgeous. Some days, Flynn envied that. Some days, it didn't matter. Some days, she was just glad that she got to appreciate how beautiful Yuri was.

"Fancy dinners aren't really my thing."

"It's for a good cause."

"Women's shelters, right? I'll donate directly."

"I still think you should come."

Technically, Flynn was going along as a member of the prosecutor's office, but several of her coworkers would be coming with spouses. She would have liked to have had Yuri with her. Turning around, she stepped out into the hall.

"You've still got that pretty, purple dress, right? I could help you do something with your hair..."

Reaching out, she gathered up Yuri's hair to pull it forward over her shoulder. Part of it could go into an up-do—a little bun, maybe, with the rest hanging loose? As she finger-combed the silky mass, she wished idly that Yuri would wear it up more often. There was something about being the only one allowed to take it down for Yuri at the end of the day that set her heart beating a little faster. For just a moment, she lost herself in the feel of her fingers running through Yuri's hair, in thoughts of sweet kisses and the soft press of their bodies. She only snapped out of it when Yuri pulled away to twist her hair up into a messy bun.

"I'm surprised you even want me to come. You only just quit being mad at me about our last date." There was a challenge in Yuri's grin that made Flynn roll her eyes.

"Are you seriously bringing this up again? I had a right to be angry."

"That scumbag had it coming. He grabbed my ass! Should I have just let him get away with it?"

"That isn't the issue. You could have handled it without getting us kicked out of my favorite bar. All you had to do was lure him outside."

Yuri snorted. "What, and leave my drink?"

"I've have watched it for you." Flynn let a smile turn up her lips as she returned to the counter.

"That's cold! You'd have left me to face that pervert on my own?" Just by the sound of her voice, Flynn could tell that she hadn't been able to keep a straight face.

"The day you can't handle a loser like that is the day they'll be lowering your coffin into the ground. Now, shoo. I've got to finish getting ready. If you aren't coming with me, then you're just a distraction."

"Not yet, I'm not." She darted forward and grabbed Flynn around the waist from behind. The mirror caught a brief image of their faces side by side before Yuri ducked her head to kiss Flynn's neck. With a quick squeeze, she let go and backed out into the shadowed hall. It wasn't until she was well out of sight that she called back: "You look nice, by the way."

Flynn wished the other members of her office weren't expecting her. A night at the gym suddenly seemed a much more desirable way to spend the evening.

* * *

The charity dinner felt like it went on forever. It was nearly eleven by the time Flynn made it back to the apartment. She took off her heels in the elevator and carried them down the hall to the apartment. It was a bad habit picked up from the few times she'd seen Yuri go out wearing heels. It was hard to care, however, now that she was home free.

Yuri was nestled in the corner of the couch, damp hair draped over a towel wrapped around her shoulders. She wore fleece pajama pants and a fresh sports bra, and was eating straight out of a jar of peanut butter. Greeting Flynn with a smile and a wave of her spoon, she was a welcome sight. There was nothing quite like coming home to a loved one after a long night.

The skirt of her dress swayed around her legs as she crossed quickly to the couch. The fabric whispered. Its movement made her feel graceful, and the way Yuri's face lit up was icing on the cake. She caught a whiff of peanut butter as she leaned in for a brief kiss. When she pulled away, Yuri went right back to her snack, and Flynn headed for her room. The dress was nice, but she was ready to be free of it.

Flynn returned her heels to their place in her closet. She switched the contents of her clutch back to her regular purse. Her earrings and tennis bracelet went back into her jewelry box. The shawl went onto a hanger, the dress went into the laundry basket.

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror hung on the back of the door, she took a moment to study her reflection. The new underwear _was_ pretty cute. It boosted her breasts a bit, and the bright white lace brought out a bit more color in skin that hadn't seen the sun for a tan in months. She turned to get a look at her profile, then at her backside. Well, Yuri _had_ wanted her to get something a bit more interesting than her usual.

Smiling, she opened the door and called down the hall: "Yuri? Come have a look."

"Mmm?" A curious noise came from the living room and, a moment later, Yuri came in, peanut butter spoon dangling from her mouth. She froze just inside Flynn's room, staring. She was smiling around the spoon as she met Flynn's eyes. "You're really hot."

Heat crept up Flynn's neck and colored her cheeks. "This set gets your seal of approval, then?" She looked down, plucking at the strap. "I bought it the other day—"

Taking her eyes off of Yuri had been a mistake. In a heartbeat, the peanut butter had been set aside so that Yuri could rush her. She swept Flynn back, knocking them both onto the bed. It shuddered and jerked beneath them as Yuri climbed fully atop the mattress, settling at Flynn's side. She leaned down, pushing damp locks of hair behind her ear only to have them fall immediately forward again. She tasted like peanut butter, and her lips were chapped and warm. As they kissed, fingers danced lightly across Flynn's breasts, just above the hem of the cups. Yuri's touch wandered from there, brushing feather-light beneath the bra and over the top of Flynn's stomach, traveling ticklishly down her sides to draw in across her hips and along the top of the panties. The barely-there graze of nails over his skin made Flynn shiver. Ghosting over the thin silk, Yuri's hands slipped down to run warmly over the very tops of Flynn's thighs.

"Mmm." There was a faint smack as their lips parted. "I approve," Yuri breathed, sinking back down for another kiss. "You look...mmm...amazing."


	2. Kiss and Makeup

A/N: Just a quick story for this set where Yuri is being really in love with Flynn in her own little ways.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from _Tales of Vesperia_ and do not belong to me.

* * *

"You spend an awful lot of time on that."

Flynn finished up with her mascara and capped the tube before glancing over at Yuri. She'd been sitting on the edge of the tub the entire time Flynn had been putting on her makeup, just watching. The interest was bewildering. Yuri didn't wear makeup.

"Not all of us have jobs that let us get away without it." She tapped Yuri lightly on the top of the head with the tube before dropping it back into her cosmetics bag. A thought made her pause and turn back to regard Yuri curiously. "I could show you how to do yours, if you'd like."

"No thanks."

Yuri leaned forward, propping her elbows on her thighs and cupping her chin in her hands. Her posture and focus reminded Flynn of a cat, and she half expected to see Yuri's backside begin wiggling in preparation to pounce. Somewhat warily, she returned her attention to her routine and began rifling through her cosmetics bag for the lip gloss she wanted.

"You might like it, actually," she said once she finished with the gloss. She pressed her lips together and popped them open at her reflection, then turned to smile at Yuri. "Putting it on before a big case sort of feels like armoring up for battle. It gives me a little confidence boost. Not that you really need it."

"What, a confidence boost or makeup?"

"Either." Flynn matched Yuri's grin, perfectly sincere, even though Yuri had just been being silly. She was blown a raspberry in response.

"Quit flirting and finish putting your face on. You're gonna be late for work."

"What about you? Don't you need to get going?"

"Nah, it's only—" Yuri pulled out her phone and swore. She was up off the edge of the tub and rushing out the door in the blink of an eye. Flynn only barely caught her elbow in time to drag her in for a peck on the cheek.

"Have a good day."

Yuri swung around. Her fingers curled behind Flynn's neck as she drew her in for a proper kiss. There was a little smack at the end, a little tickle of tongue against her lips as Yuri pulled away, impish and alluring. Flynn hesitated for just a moment before shoving her away.

"Jerk. You're the one running late."

"Worth it!" Yuri took off down the hall, rushing to get her things together. She'd taken a job last month teaching youth karate at the Y, and seemed to love every minute of it. Flynn had never seen her so eager to get to work before. With a hurried "See you tonight!" she was out the front door.

Silence settled over the apartment as Flynn turned back to the mirror to touch up her lip gloss.

* * *

One evening almost a week later, as Flynn was sitting on the couch going over one of her cases, Yuri dropped down on the cushion next to her.

"Will you do my makeup?"

She didn't immediately set her work aside, though she did give Yuri her full attention. "Are you going out?"

"Probably not. Does it matter?"

"I'm sort of in the middle of something. Do you need me to do this now?"

Yuri snatched the yellow legal pad out of her lap and dropped it straight to the floor. "You're off the clock. Learn to relax. Jeeze, look at you. You've been home for an hour and you're still wearing your stockings."

She settled her hand just above Flynn's knee, fingers splayed, and slipped it up her thigh, aiming for the hem of Flynn's skirt, rucked up to allow her to sit cross-legged on the couch. Flynn batted her hand away and slipped off her reading glasses.

"All right," she said with a smile. "Go get my bag."

Yuri had brought it with her. She pulled it out from behind her back and tossed it into Flynn's lap. The couch shook as she scooted closer and leaned in while Flynn unzipped the bag.

"I'm going to stick with the basics, since this is apparently just a whim...?" She glanced up to meet Yuri's eyes to be sure.

"Cool. Armor me up."

"All right. Usually, you'd want to put on foundation, but mine isn't quite right for your skin tone. I can help you pick some out another time."

"Maybe."

Flynn dug through her cosmetics bag, pulling out blush, eyeliner, and a tube of mascara. After a moment's hesitation, she pulled out an eyeshadow palette full of untouched colors. She arranged everything across the taut fabric of her skirt and took Yuri by the chin, pulling her face a little closer, a little lower.

"I'm going to start with your eyes. Keep still while I'm doing it. Trust me and don't flinch and I probably won't put one of them out."

"I love it when you sweet talk me."

Yuri closed her eyes. The smile lingered on her lips, and Flynn took a few seconds to study her upturned face. She really was beautiful. The makeup would accentuate that, but it wasn't at all necessary. As she brushed Yuri's bangs gently out of her face, Flynn wondered about her sudden interest in makeup. Yuri would likely explain in her own time. In the meanwhile, Flynn seized upon the chance. She picked up the palette of eyeshadow and smudged the tip of an applicator in a smoky purple. It wasn't her color, but she was sure it would look nice on Yuri.

Carefully, Flynn rubbed color across Yuri's eyelid. It was translucent over her skin, not too dark, and she smiled as she worked. Yuri sat still beneath her hands, eyelids trembling just a little at the unfamiliar touches. She was unusually quiet, apparently having taken Flynn's instructions seriously. Once both eyelids were shadowed, Flynn chose a slightly paler, warmer shade to blend the edge of the first a bit better. She snapped the tray shut and admired her handiwork before taking up the eyeliner pencil.

"Hold still. I'm putting on the eyeliner."

She pushed back the hair threatening to fall forward and steadied Yuri with fingers placed against cheekbone and brow. In the edges of her vision, she could see the rise and fall of Yuri's shoulders with each calm breath. Her hands, fine-boned and graceful for all their hidden strength, lay limp in her lap, fingers warm across Flynn's calf. Succumbing to temptation, Flynn leaned in to steal a kiss.

Yuri's eyes fluttered open. A smile made them sparkle. "Sneaky."

"Sorry. Couldn't resist." She held up the pencil as she tucked Yuri's hair back again. Next time they would put in some bobby pins. "This time for real, okay?"

When Yuri closed her eyes again, Flynn applied the eyeliner with gentle strokes. It grounded the smoky shadow, joining it to the darkness of Yuri's lashes. Flynn tucked the liner away in her bag in exchange for the mascara.

"This might tickle a little."

"Like the others didn't?"

"You're doing very well. I'm just about done with your eyes."

She unscrewed the brush and pulled it out. One hand cupped Yuri's cheek as the other carefully applied mascara. Yuri's lashes darkened and gained a hint more curl as the brush combed through them. As she finished, Flynn's curiosity got the better of her. She leaned back a little as she capped the mascara.

"May I ask why the sudden interest?"

Yuri opened her eyes. The thin streaks of eyeliner set them off, made them look just a little bigger, just a little brighter. The eyeshadow seemed to pull hints of color up out of the stormy gray. Smiling, she shrugged. The movement caused her bangs to fall back over her forehead. A lock of hair slipped forward over her shoulder.

"I wanted to look pretty for you."

Laughter took Flynn only a moment after the surprise. She smacked Yuri's arm. "Idiot."

"What was that for?" Though Yuri wore a joking grin, the truth of her words had pinked her cheeks. It would be a shame to fiddle with that using an artificial blush, and Flynn tucked it back into her bag.

"We'll skip the blush, I think. Half the time, you complain about the scent when I'm wearing it, anyway."

"What? No! Gimmie your best shot! I can take it!"

"I think you're prettier without it."

Flynn smiled, and Yuri couldn't argue without lying or claiming she had when she'd admitted her reason. Frowning, she crossed her arms.

"Is that it, then?"

"We'll do lipstick, if you want." She began picking through her bag, pulling out tubes. "I've got a couple shades of pink, some that are just gloss—"

"What's that one?" Yuri tapped one that Flynn had pulled out mostly to get it out of the way.

"This one glitters."

"Ooo! That one, then." Yuri's smile was the best kind of wicked. "I want you to be able to see everywhere I've kissed you with that on."

"There is no way this can keep up with you." She went on before Yuri could even begin to protest. "Come here. We'll see how long it lasts."

Yuri pressed in right past the lip gloss to catch Flynn's lips with her's. Her hands slipped over Flynn's shoulders and down her back, warm through her blouse. Reaching up, Flynn cupped Yuri's face in her hands, thumbs running over that striking blush, feeling warmth build as they kissed. She squirmed as Yuri's fingers tickled over her waist, creeping back around to begin unbuttoning her blouse. Any thoughts she might have had about going back to work that evening were suddenly tossed aside.

Warmth trickled upward over her stomach, between her breasts, beneath her chin. Yuri's hands slipped beneath the collar of her shirt, pushing it aside and down and out of the way, and Flynn helped her slip it off and toss it aside. She slid down, feeling her skirt catch up against the cushions as she stretched out on the couch beneath Yuri. Those warm hands cupped her breasts through her bra. Fingers brushed lightly over the exposed skin above the satin cups.

Flynn was parched. She drank down the kisses greedily, fingers raking through Yuri's hair. She pulled her close, sliding her hands down Yuri's neck, over her back. When Yuri started to reach beneath her, fingers digging between skin and sofa in search of the catch to that pesky, in-the-way bra, Flynn arched her back to help things along. Yuri's breasts, still hidden in her tank top, pressed against her own, and Flynn squirmed, enjoying the little thrills that danced through her.

The bra came loose, and Yuri pulled back, breaking the kiss. A single breath of cool air was all it took to clear Flynn' head enough to remind her about the lip gloss still clutched in one hand.

"I haven't finished your makeup yet," she breathed.

Her chest was heaving with quickened breaths. She could feel the hem of her bra catching up against her nipples. Yuri's eyes darted over her and returned to hold her gaze. Her mouth was slack, her own breathing excited. She held herself still, though, and Flynn reached up, cupping her face with one hand as she added sparkle to Yuri's lips.

"Press them together to set it," she said. She couldn't tear her eyes away from Yuri's lips, the way they moved, the way they pressed and parted. There was definitely no way she would be getting any more work done tonight.

Slowly, teasingly slowly, Yuri pulled Flynn's bra away, lifting it off her upraised arms. She sent if flying across the living room, away from the couch, away with all the other unimportant things. Her hair was a swaying curtain as she lowered her head and closed her lips around first one pert nipple for a sucking kiss, then the other.

A grin lit her face as she pulled back, staring delightedly at Flynn's breasts. "They really _do_ sparkle," she said. Her eager gaze flickered up to meet Flynn's. "Like you said, let's see how long this stuff lasts."


	3. Play Date

A/N: Fem!Flynn in a tiny tennis skirt. You're welcome.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

* * *

As she watched the tennis ball being swatted back and forth across the net, Yuri remained happily ignorant to most of the finer points of scoring and technique on display. That didn't stop her from cheering Flynn on with unrivaled enthusiasm during lulls in the action. She'd learned long ago to hold her peace while the ball was in play, but all the dirty looks from the country club set that filled the rest of the stands weren't enough to keep her silent right after a point had been scored. Why settle for reserved clapping when she could whistle sharply enough to cut glass and her girlfriend was down there kicking ass?

Or maybe not kicking ass. Yuri winced as the ball smacked down inside the bounds of Flynn's half of the court. The patter of polite golf clapping rose up on behalf of her opponent, and Yuri shouted out over it.

"You can do it, Flynn! Go get 'er!"

Even shadowed by her visor, Flynn's eyes still shone bright blue as her attention flicked briefly up into the stands. She ducked her head, and Yuri couldn't tell if the motion was meant as acknowledgment or if she was embarrassed by her one-woman cheerleader team. Well. She'd had plenty of chances to learn what happened when she brought Yuri along to watch a match. If she was that embarrassed, she wouldn't keep offering invitations.

The score was announced as Flynn's opponent prepared her serve. Yuri ignored the referee's call. She didn't understand why they couldn't just say the points like they really were. Nobody actually had forty points, or sixty, or whatever. Yuri didn't think she'd ever even been to a game where one person scored that many points, though some of them had dragged on long enough. If ever there was a sport in need of a sudden death round it was tennis.

Feeling a bit like a cat watching a laser pointer, Yuri kept her eyes on the ball as it hurtled toward Flynn and was sent rocketing back. She jumped a little in her seat, but bit back a cheer. Flynn might not be quite as quick as some of her opponents, but damn, could she slam that ball home! The court was sparsely filled with sounds: footsteps in a hurried dash, the hollow 'thok!' of the ball against a racket, wind in the trees outside the fence, the shifting of quiet spectators. When Flynn sent the ball sailing over the net into the narrow margin between the boundary and her opponent's reach, Yuri was on her feet in an instant, slicing through the hush with a whistle that nearly drowned out the referee's call. Flynn had won back the right to serve.

They traded sides. The signal for the switch was one of the esoteric nuances that Yuri still hadn't quite worked out. She could never remember if it was a point or time limit that decided it. She did know that it was better to be the one serving, and she was pretty sure that what Flynn had just done was called a 'mini-break.' Later on, she'd congratulate her on it and see if Flynn was impressed that she was learning more about tennis's unnecessary complications.

Flynn took up her place opposite where she'd been standing. She bounced the ball twice before setting up to serve. As she held out her racket and ball, Yuri heard her announce: "Ad out." Flynn had explained plenty of the terms before, but Yuri remembered that one. She was stating that her opponent held the advantage. It brought a fierce grin to Yuri's face, because she knew Flynn called that out to make it clear that she was prepared to rise to the challenge. Yuri hoped she _annihilated_ the other player.

Flynn had needed three points to win when she'd announced her opponent's advantage, and she set about earning them with renewed focus. Yuri had met a lot of people who thought that Flynn was mild mannered, but those people had never seen her on the tennis court—or in an actual court, for that matter. Flynn was aggressive as hell when a situation warranted it. She was the type that always gave a hundred and ten percent. An overachiever. Though she might tease Flynn about that sometimes, Yuri loved her for it. More than everything else, it was her passion that Yuri was most attracted to.

Watching Flynn play, Yuri knew that nothing outside the game existed for her. It was even difficult to catch her attention between points, and Yuri reined in the cheering, not wanting to break Flynn's concentration. It was one thing when they faced each other and Flynn complained about her non-stop mouth, but Yuri didn't want to see her lose to someone else, particularly not over something as stupid as being distracted by an over-enthusiastic girlfriend.

They'd been together for...hell, Yuri couldn't even remember how long it had been. Even so, seeing Flynn get worked up, seeing her get serious and fiery never failed to get Yuri excited, too. When a spark from one could ignite in the other as if catching in dry kindling, it meant that living together was never dull.

The thought brought a lopsided smile to her face. Actually, there was something that she'd been meaning to ask Flynn. It meant long term, but they'd been together forever, anyway. Sure, it would be a big commitment, but she was fairly certain that Flynn wouldn't say no. Probably. Either way, Yuri wasn't about to let uncertainty stand in the way of happiness. She'd ask Flynn later that night. Flynn would almost definitely say yes. Their domestic bliss would multiply ridiculously. It was a good plan.

Leaning back on the bleacher, Yuri propped her heels on the empty seat in front of her and rested her elbows on the one behind. Now that she had made up her mind, she wanted the match to end so they could hurry up and get home. It was too hot out, anyway. Even the breeze wasn't providing much of a relief. Though she had tied her hair up, tendrils soaked with sweat still clung to her neck. The sun beat down on her skin, making her black tank top feel more like a wool blanket. She was glad she'd worn shorts rather than jeans, though she was pretty sure she'd be going home with at least a light sunburn. Flynn tanned. Yuri did not.

Luckily, although Yuri had seen some matches go on forever, this one only lasted about another twenty minutes. Flynn shut out her opponent, remaining in control of the ball until she'd earned the requisite points to win the match and the set. Yuri gave her a good, long whistle when her victory was announced, then slipped out of the bleachers while Flynn was still being politely applauded off the court.

She made her way into the little building that housed the changing and equipment rooms, an office, and restrooms. Inside, it was all dim fluorescence and shadows, pale gray linoleum and whitewashed walls, honey-gold doors, and the hum of industrial air conditioning set to create an indoor ice age. Walking inside felt like diving into a pool, and Yuri was grateful for it until her sweat cooled and she began to shiver. She leaned against the wall near the changing room door. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long.

"Hey." Yuri waved as Flynn appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by sunlight. "Congrats. Great game."

"Not really." Flynn was smiling as she approached. She was dripping sweat. Patches of it darkened her sky blue polo. Yuri couldn't help staring as Flynn pulled the hem up to wipe her face, briefly exposing her stomach. "She broke my service too many times. I'm out of practice."

"Well, what do you expect when you never stop working? Cut yourself some slack. You won, didn't you?"

"Yeah. Somehow."

Between the flush of exertion and that pleased smile, she was positively glowing. Yuri leaned a little more of her weight against the wall, appreciating the sight. She crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow.

"'Somehow?' You could have gone pro."

Yuri loved the way Flynn's eyes crinkled up at the corners when she grinned really big. She loved the sly expression that snuck onto Flynn's face as she glanced back to check that the hallway was still deserted. She really loved the way that Flynn stepped in close, leaning up against her for a kiss. The chill of the air conditioning was banished in a rush of warmth that sent a different sort of shiver running up Yuri's spine. Flynn cupped her cheek gently with one hand. The racket she held in the other brushed lightly against Yuri's leg. Her eyes seemed a little brighter when she pulled back.

"I do far more good as a prosecutor than I would have as a tennis player."

"Whatever floats your boat," Yuri managed. She was having a hard time not dragging Flynn in close once more. Whatever was keeping the other woman couldn't possibly last much longer. "Go get your stuff. You can shower at home." Grinning, she tweaked the hem of Flynn's skirt. "I'll help you out of your cute little uniform."

With that little bit of incentive, Flynn moved almost as quickly as she had on the court.

* * *

Flynn had barely pulled off her polo when Yuri darted in to strip away her sports bra, yanking it up over raised arms. Tossing it aside, she caught Flynn up in her arms. Her enthusiasm sent Flynn stumbling back and Yuri—off balance and wholly unwilling to let go—went with her. Their bare feet slapped lightly over the tiled floor until the sink brought them to a halt and left Flynn at her mercy. Kissing down her neck and collarbone, Yuri savored the warmth of sun-drenched skin on her lips. As she made her way lower, she felt Flynn fumbling with the tie that held her hair back until the whole, clinging mass of it fell free over her neck and back. Fingers carded through it, snagging on tangles, letting in breaths of cooler air, even as she felt warmth rising inside her.

She buried her face between Flynn's breasts. Her scent hung heavy in Yuri's nose, her sweat tasted salty on Yuri's lips. She turned her head, kissing over the soft curvature, hands pulling in off Flynn's back, over her sides and around to cup her close. Flynn abruptly stopped petting as Yuri parted her lips and let her tongue slip over sweat-damp skin. Playfully, she sampled the resistance as she licked against yielding flesh, then drew back to swirl the tip around Flynn's nipple. It stiffened beneath her tongue, between her lips. Grinning, she nipped lightly, and felt sharp tugs as Flynn's hands clenched into fists around her hair.

"Yuri..."

God, she loved hearing her name slip out like that. Hushed and breathy, it sounded like a plea, like Flynn wanted her more than she could contain.

"Mmm?" She hummed her curiosity, mouth locked on Flynn's breast. Her fingers stroked languidly, teasingly, just beneath the other.

"Maybe...maybe this can wait just a few moments? Until we're in the shower?" She gasped and faltered as Yuri nipped again, leaving a little love bite high enough to peek over the top of Flynn's usual bras. "I'd like to get cleaned up. I reek."

"You don't reek." She hid her face once more and breathed deeply, sighed it out. The sweat-smell was clean, the result of healthy activity rather than merely an unwashed body. Turning to the other side, she kissed a trail up and over the mound of pale skin. "You smell like...homemade bread. And daisies maybe. Or dandelions. Pollen." Glancing up to meet Flynn's eyes, she flicked her tongue over her nipple. "Homemade bread and pollen."

Flynn was trying not to smile. She was flushed again, definitely a good look for her. "I can't tell if you're making fun of me or not."

"I only do that when you deserve it." Straightening up, she slid her arms over Flynn's shoulders. Still hidden away behind bra and tank top, her own small breasts pushed against Flynn's. Their foreheads bumped together and Yuri grinned as she wiggled her shoulders. "Do you deserve it?"

"I deserve a hot shower." Her arms snaked around Yuri, pulling her closer until she could clasp her hands just at the small of her back. "With the pleasure of your company, of course."

There really was only one way to respond to an invitation like that.

* * *

Lying on her back across Flynn's neatly made bed, Yuri felt dazed and almost too warm despite the fact that she was still naked and damp from the shower. She could feel the heat radiating off her own skin. Some it was from the hot water, some of it was a result of Flynn's gentle, insistent fingers and warm mouth.

And some of it was from the sunburn that had left her face, shoulders, and thighs stinging. Flynn came in from the bathroom with a little tube of ointment and a smile that clearly said 'I told you so.' With a roll of her eyes, Yuri blew a raspberry and sat up. The mattress dipped as Flynn sat down behind her.

"I remind you to put on sunscreen every time. How do you always forget?"

Yuri shrugged. "I guess the thought of getting to see you prancing around in that tiny skirt just gets me all hot and bothered."

"Ha ha." The tube was tossed into her lap as Flynn's hands, cooled by a coating of the ointment, settled to either side of her neck. "I'll get your shoulders. You do your legs."

She hadn't been entirely joking, but she kept that thought to herself and set about treating her sunburn. As she rubbed the ointment into her skin and hummed with pleasure as Flynn massaged her shoulders, she remembered suddenly the question she'd been wanting to ask.

"Hey, Flynn?"

"Yes?"

Yuri couldn't keep the smile off her face, or the excitement out of out of her voice. "Can we get a dog?"


	4. Bedtime

A/N: A very quick addition to this set written as a gift fic.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from _Tales of Vesperia_ and do not belong to me.

* * *

Yuri was wearing little more than a long t-shirt when she dashed into Flynn's room and flung herself across the foot of the bed. The mattress quaked, and Flynn tilted her open book against her chest, not sure yet if she would be giving up entirely on reading. Grinning, Yuri rested her chin in her hands. The messy braid that held back her hair flopped across her shoulders. Her landing had left her t-shirt riding up past the small of her back and exposing her panties, their pale lilac stripes barely less translucent than the white between. She lay there, staring, kicking her legs in the air and rolling her ankles to some unheard melody. The bed had stopped shaking, but Yuri was contained energy atop the covers at Flynn's feet. Her eyes shone bright and delighted. Never able to resist when she was in such a mood, Flynn set her book aside.

It was all the signal Yuri needed. In an instant, she was scrambling over the sheets, up Flynn's body until she could drop into Flynn's lap, into her arms where she squirmed in search of a comfortable position. Laughing, she thwarted Flynn's efforts to help with an attack of mischievous kisses that landed wherever her lips could reach. In no time, she had Flynn laughing, too, and was soon batting away hands from her sides where Flynn had reached beneath her shirt in search of those places where she was most ticklish.

Her skin was smooth and warm, marred only by one large scar that she had never explained. When the tickling drove her up onto her knees, Flynn had her shirt hiked up to the curve of her breasts in an instant. She kissed Yuri's stomach, tongue flicking over her bellybutton. Her lips glossed over the scar, acknowledging it, letting Yuri know wordlessly once more that it did nothing to diminish her. Yuri's laughter faded into gasps as she tried to catch her breath. She ran her hands through Flynn's short hair, tugged at its thickness, bent over her to kiss the crown of her head.

The burst of merriment passed like a summer storm. Flynn let her hands slip down Yuri's sides, and the t-shirt lowered over them like a curtain. She caressed Yuri's hips, the backs of her thighs. There was a brief laugh, another bed frame rattling resettling when her touch brushed just above the backs of Yuri's knees. She was more ticklish than she would admit no matter how often Flynn demonstrated it to her. Yuri lowered herself down to Flynn's side, curling over her, pressing in close to kiss her cheek and down along her neck. One of her hands was wound around Flynn's shoulders, trapped against the headboard. The other rested loosely between Flynn's breasts.

She tasted like mint toothpaste, and hummed appreciatively when she let Flynn catch her lips in a kiss. Calm now, she seemed to melt against Flynn's side, shifting now and again to find a bit more comfort. Flynn tightened her embrace around Yuri's waist, enjoying the feel of her through the worn t-shirt, the little movements of her hips as she settled a leg between Flynn's.

The kiss lingered, slow and deep. There was no haste, none of the rough play, the little nips that Yuri favored. She was soft and gentle, a surprising rarity, but not an unwelcome one. When they broke apart over a number of just-one-more, just-one-last little kisses, Yuri sighed and pillowed her head on Flynn's shoulder, nuzzling her collarbone briefly. Yawning, she snuggled a bit closer.

Flynn drew her arms up, rubbing soothingly over Yuri's back and shoulder. She squeezed her lightly and kissed her hair.

"I hope you aren't planning on falling asleep like this. I'm not all that comfortable."

"Mean." Yuri moved to press herself more fully against Flynn.

"Under the covers. I know you. You'll get cold and steal them all, otherwise. And let me lie down."

They resettled, yanking up the sheets and fluffing pillows until they were both comfortable, both snug beneath the blankets and wrapped up in each other. Yuri yawned again, sleepy and at ease, warm in Flynn's arms. There was only one thing wrong.

"You didn't turn out the light when you came in," Flynn murmured.

Yuri didn't even open her eyes. She slipped a hand up Flynn's back and over her neck to ruffle her hair. One of her legs slid a bit further up between Flynn's thighs.

"We'll get it tomorrow." She smiled and sighed, satisfied that the issue was settled.

There would be no moving her, and Flynn figured that she could probably manage to sleep with the lights on just this once.


	5. Vacation Plans

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

* * *

It didn't take years of friendship, a loving and devoted relationship, or feminine intuition for Yuri to know when Flynn's job was getting to her. In the offices and courtrooms she might be all determination and iron will dressed up in a fuck-not-with-me attitude, but, once she'd made it out after a really long week, month, or however long it took for a particular case under her care to get beneath her skin...the stress showed. When she walked into the apartment, purse in one hand, pumps in another, and briefcase tucked beneath her arm, Yuri immediately set her bowl of cereal aside on the coffee table and opened her arms in invitation.

Flynn heaved a sigh. It only briefly alleviated her slump, and didn't even erase it entirely. She dropped all the things she'd been carrying next to the door—one more sign that she was fed up with absolutely everything—and trudged across the living room, arms dangling lifelessly. Walking like that, she looked like a zombie, and Yuri couldn't prevent a snort of laughter escaping as Flynn collapsed on top of her, pressing her into the corner where the armrest met the back of the couch. Yuri wrapped her up in a hug, rubbing her back through the layers of the uniform of legitimate employment—camisole, blouse, and suit jacket.

Arms limp at her sides, legs curled half in Yuri's lap and half on the couch, Flynn sat still and gathered herself. She'd buried her face in the crook of Yuri's neck, and her breath tickled warmly as it slid beneath the loose collar of an old, cotton t-shirt. Yuri let her stay that way until a soft groan indicated that she'd gotten what she needed from silent comfort. Lips pressed briefly against the base of Yuri's throat as Flynn slipped out of her arms to lie across the couch. She left her head pillowed on Yuri's lap, eyes closed, one hand curled loosely on top of her thigh just below the hem of her shorts. She sighed softly as Yuri began stroking her hair.

"Long day, sweetie?"

The question held a sincere offer to let Flynn vent, but Yuri never had gotten the hang of pet names. They always came out sounding sarcastic. Luckily, Flynn didn't seem to notice.

"It's this case," she groaned. "The suspect is guilty as sin. Our case against him should have been air-tight, but his snake of a lawyer—!"

"Hey, aren't you a lawyer, too?"

Flynn pressed her face into Yuri's thigh. "I'm a prosecutor. It's different." If it sounded like she was pouting at all, Yuri was good enough to consider it merely a result of her voice being muffled. "The other guys are snakes," Flynn continued. "We're mongooses."

Yuri couldn't help it. She laughed. Flynn's head bounced upon her thigh, and she cracked open one annoyed blue eye. Normally, Yuri loved gazing into Flynn's eyes more than she would ever admit. Today, with the levels of irritation flashing there, falling into Flynn's eyes would be more like dropping into a pit of spikes. She tried to force back her laughter, and offered: "Mon_geese_?" Her voice only barely shook with repressed amusement.

There was a moment when Yuri thought she'd fucked up, that the situation was serious enough for Flynn to regard levity as a personal attack. That moment passed, and humor broke through the exhaustion on Flynn's face. She grinned, laughing weakly as her eye slid shut once more.

"Pretty sure it's actually mon_gooses_, like I said."

"That's stupid." She kept petting Flynn's hair, feeling her breath warm against her thigh. Flynn's hand was barely stirring, knuckles rubbing over her skin in gentle gratitude. "Well, at least soon you'll be able to get away from it for a while."

Flynn went very still. She hadn't been moving all that much to begin with, so it took Yuri a moment to notice, and even then, it was more the prolonged silence that drew her attention. Carding her fingers through Flynn's hair, she reached the end of a lock and tugged.

"Flynn?"

"That was the other thing," she mumbled. Pinching the hem of Yuri's shorts, she curled a little tighter in on herself. "Don't be mad." Although she spoke the words softly, they were undeniably an order.

It was Yuri's turn to sigh. "Who the _fuck_ canceled your vacation? Let me guess, it was that dickhead, Dinoia, right?"

"Would you _listen_ to me before you go insulting my boss?"

Flynn was glaring up at her, that angry sharpness back in her eyes. Yuri scowled and demonstrated how supportive she was being by holding her peace long enough for Flynn to go ahead and try to explain.

"A date has been set for Ragou's trial. I know you've been looking forward to our trip—so have I—but I couldn't just let someone else take this case. I screwed up the first time. I need to see this through and be sure he's punished for all he's done."

Yuri rolled her eyes, slumping back against the couch. "Of course you'd have a decent excuse."

"It's not an excuse." She nuzzled Yuri's thigh. "I wouldn't have canceled our vacation without a good reason."

"I know." She started petting Flynn's hair again.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget it."

It wasn't even missing their vacation that had pissed her off so much as the thought that someone had forced Flynn to cancel when she worked twice as hard as anyone in that office and needed the break. She'd earned a week away from court cases and criminals.

"We can go another time," Flynn suggested.

She was still trying to cheer Yuri up even though she was the one who was fed up and overworked, even though she was the one who had spent so much of her free time planning this trip. Flynn had been so excited about it, even more than Yuri, who could only barely afford to take a week off. Looking down over her—black stockings over toned calves, the rucked-up skirt of a three piece suit almost the same brilliant blue as her eyes, a hint of crisp white dress shirt beneath a suit jacket that hadn't been meant for collapsing onto couches and was now riding up her side, messy blond hair that was so much softer when Flynn didn't fill it with gunk to make it lie flat—Yuri couldn't help but smile. Wrapped up in that package of frazzled prosecutor was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She patted Flynn on the shoulder.

"Make room."

Without question, Flynn lifted her head from Yuri's lap, allowing her to pull her legs free and shimmy down to stretch out between Flynn and the back of the couch. They shifted and shuffled, fitting themselves together and trying to get comfortable between the cramped quarters and inflexible attire. When Flynn propped herself up, Yuri was right there, sliding her hands beneath the jacket to slip it off and let it fall to the floor. They lay back down together, Flynn's head tucked beneath Yuri's chin. As her fingers started slipping through choppy blond locks once more, Yuri made a request.

"Tell me about the trip."

"I'll have to cancel. I don't know if we'll be able to do everything when we have time to rebook."

"Big picture, then. You're good at that."

"Mm. All right." She snuggled a little closer. Her arm was warm across Yuri's back. "We'll go someplace warm. I know you don't like the cold. Someplace tropical with soft, sandy beaches."

Yuri pictured ocean waves, crystal clear and as blue as Flynn's eyes. She smiled, and kept that particular detail to herself.

"We can go scuba diving together—see all the different fish and coral—play volleyball on the beach, I can catch up on my reading—"

"You'll have to bring a bikini. Let your tummy get a little sun." She pinched Flynn playfully on the side and her hand was knocked away.

"My tummy is fine the way it is. I'd rented us a private beach house, though, meaning if you didn't want tan lines..." She let Yuri follow the thought to its obvious conclusion.

"Meanwhile, you'd just be enjoying the view?" Flynn hugged her a bit tighter. "Maybe I could be persuaded to join you for just a little sunbathing. At night, we could go for walks along the beach beneath the stars."

"Now you're just being sappy." She ruffled Flynn's hair, and Flynn shoved her arm back, tilting her head up to smile at Yuri.

"You're the one who asked!"

"That was before I knew you were a closet romantic!" She grinned, teasing. "When were you going to tell me, huh, Flynn?"

"I've _been_ telling you, you jerk!" Her eyes widened with mock outrage. "Were you tuning me out this whole time?"

"Only the mushy bits."

"You—!" Flynn laughed. She stretched up, threading her fingers through Yuri's hair to draw her in for a soft kiss. When they parted, her eyes were far lighter than they had been when she'd arrived home. She searched Yuri's face, and must have been happy with what she found there, because her grin was as brilliant as any fine day beneath a tropical sun. "You're a jerk," she said softly.

"Yeah, well." Yuri didn't really have an argument for that. Instead, she hugged Flynn close for another kiss.


	6. False Start

A/N: Aaaaand fem!Yuri gets to deal with being demisexual. This takes place several years before the rest of the set, back when the girls were not long out of high school and had only just begun dating. There is actually a follow up to this story, but because of the adult content, that one's just going to AO3. This site will remain free of my attempts at sex scenes. ^^;

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

* * *

Flynn's cellphone went off, scooting jerkily across the coffee table as it vibrated. She had left it there when she'd gone to her room, and if it had been her part time job calling rather than Estelle, Yuri would have let it go to voice mail rather than get up off the couch to bring it to her.

Padding down the hall, she felt a chill on her bare legs. As hot as it was outside, it was too damn cold to be wearing shorts in the apartment. Flynn's frigid idea about what constituted the perfect inside temperature was not something Yuri had taken into consideration when they'd moved in together. She switched off the air conditioning as she passed. It wouldn't take Flynn long to notice, but at least it wouldn't get any colder in the meantime.

Flynn had left her door cracked, so Yuri didn't think anything of pushing it wide open with barely a warning.

"Hey, Flynn. Your phone's—" She broke off mid-sentence, transfixed by an eyeful of Flynn bent over in the middle of slipping her skirt down over stockinged legs. Her breasts were pale and soft above the cups of her bra.

That brief glance burned itself into Yuri's mind, making the moment stretch out far beyond the actual time it had lasted even as Yuri turned her back to the room with a muttered: "Oops."

Amusement warmed Flynn's voice. "There's this new fad called knocking," she teased.

"Oh, ha ha."

Yuri held her chin high, though she really felt like banging her head against the wall as she berated herself for acting like an idiot. Why had she turned away so quickly? It wasn't like she hadn't seen the same thing back in the high school locker rooms. They'd been dating for a month, for heaven's sake! It shouldn't be such a big deal to see her girlfriend half undressed! It should be _normal_! Her face was burning, and she could feel her arm starting to shake as she held out the phone, offering it blindly in Flynn's general direction. It stopped vibrating just as Flynn took it from her, fingers warm as they brushed against Yuri's own.

"You look like you got a bit too much sun today," Flynn said.

She tweaked the top of Yuri's ear, causing her to flinch away and spin back around, ready to defend herself. The skirt was gone. Flynn was grinning, at ease in nothing but black stockings and a bra, black lace over cream satin just pale enough to look like nothing at all. That was _definitely_ cheating.

Though they'd been dating for a month, and Yuri had been attracted to Flynn for much longer than that, it was still _so weird_ to want to touch another person the way she wanted to touch Flynn. For almost the full nineteen years of her life, those had always been impulses other people had to deal with. Yuri had been mercifully free of such complications until she'd begun realizing that she might be a little closer to her best friend than most girls. She hadn't been able to believe her luck when Flynn had eventually admitted harboring friendly feelings and then some for her, but living with her best friend-slash-girlfriend was an entirely different situation from the fuzzy, half-formed imaginings that had been teasing Yuri for the better part of two years. She still wasn't entirely comfortable about acting on her yearnings, however, and had been increasingly returning to the philosophy that fears were meant only to be overcome. Although she wasn't sure _why_ some part of her was still holding back, she was determined not to let that part interfere with her relationship.

Yuri grinned and stepped in close, pushing herself right up against Flynn. Standing like that—staring right into her true blue eyes—helped for a moment by putting Flynn's state of undress out of sight. Then, however, Yuri became aware of the rise and fall of their chests as they breathed, the warm weight of Flynn's breasts against hers, the slight catch of the lace of Flynn's bra against the cotton of her t-shirt and she wasn't so much flustered anymore as acutely aware that they could be kissing and weren't.

Yuri was a woman of action. She took Flynn's face in her hands and kissed her.

Kissing was something she'd gotten the hang of quickly. It hadn't been that odd a progression from casual touches to sitting close as could be when they shared the couch to hugs and soft presses of lips to the warmth of tongues, the wet smack and quickening breaths and sensations that left her a bit lightheaded and reluctant to pull away. She _liked_ kissing, and she hated the fact that she was always the one to balk for no good reason before things got much further. Determined to finish what she'd started this time, Yuri stepped forward over the threshold, pushing Flynn back into her room and towards the bed. The phone hit the floor with a bounce and was forgotten.

Trying to walk that way was clumsy. Flynn laughed as they kissed, breath coming in short puffs across Yuri's skin. She settled her hands at Yuri's waist, let them ride the movement of her hips as Yuri hustled them across the carpet. Her stockings felt odd against the skin of Yuri's legs, a slippery diffusion of warmth. When they at last fetched up against the bed frame, Flynn boosted herself onto the mattress and wrapped her legs around Yuri's rubbing her feet along her calves. There was laughter in her eyes and her smile, and Yuri pressed forward again, claiming that happiness with a kiss.

Flynn stroked Yuri's hair back, rhythmically. It was ridiculous how context could change that simple action from calming to arousing. The feel of her fingers became a continuous sensory murmur, rushing and returning like ocean waves. They washed over Yuri, and the feeling ran down her skin in shivers and tingles, until she felt as if her body was buzzing. The lightheadedness was coming on, spurred by the prickling chill wherever her skin was left bare and untouched, by the way she tilted her head to make the kiss just that little bit deeper, the way Flynn's lips moved against hers, the way her mouth was warm and welcoming.

Slipping her hands briefly through Flynn's short hair, Yuri let her touch drift downward, skimming the soft, swaying column of her neck; dipping in at the base of her throat; curving over her shoulders—round and soft and strong; tracing lines down her arms with the barest touch of nails; moving in over her waist, velvet-soft skin that Yuri had forgotten was bare. She flattened her palms over Flynn's skin, perfect and unscarred, and let them slip around to her back. She felt the flex of muscles, the way Flynn swayed with the kiss, leaning into her, closer and closer still. She felt the warmth fill her up, gather in her palms as she stroked Flynn's back, a little lower each time, brushing up against the waistline of the stockings, a little higher, bumping the strap of her bra across her shoulder blades.

"Take it off."

The muffled words barely registered, and Yuri dove back into the kiss without acknowledging them. She heard giggles rising from deep in Flynn's throat, felt the hands running through her hair falter and fall away. Before she knew what was happening, Flynn had slipped her hands up beneath Yuri's shirt. Her touch left trails of heat over Yuri's stomach and sides, and made her shiver as, reaching higher, she pushed the shirt up out of the way. Her fingertips brushed the lower curves of Yuri's breasts, hesitated, then skimmed over them. Yuri hadn't bothered with a bra that day, and she shivered as Flynn's thumbs brushed over her nipples. It was enough to break her out of the kiss, shoulders hunching reflexively. Her own hands settled in the curve of Flynn's waist.

"You can take it off," Flynn said softly. She was grinning, and Yuri couldn't figure out what she meant.

"My shirt?" she asked, confused.

"Well, that, too. But I meant my bra. It seemed like it was getting in the way."

Yuri's hands stayed where they were. This was good. They hadn't gotten that far before. Either Flynn always had to leave for work or get up early for her classes, or Yuri... Well, Yuri didn't really have an excuse. She wanted this—she was _sure_ she wanted this—but every time they came close...

She licked her lips and realized that Flynn was staring, realized that she hadn't moved. Slowly, cautiously, hoping that she was only imagining the trembling, she ran her fingers up Flynn's back until she found the catch for her bra. She fumbled with it, fingers gone stupid with a sudden nervousness, and it wasn't like she didn't know how to undo these damn things just because she preferred sports bras, but Flynn's had three catches. Who wore bras with three catches?

Satin and wire parted beneath her fingers. She saw the straps sag on Flynn's shoulders, saw the blush of excitement that had risen in her face and spread to leave even the top of her chest rosy. Yuri was frozen again, wanting so badly to touch and find out where—_exactly_ where—all of this would lead, and it was okay, wasn't it? Flynn had told her to take the bra off, and she was still smiling and—

Flynn kissed her. Yuri's eyes slid shut. Her thoughts calmed. It was fine. Everything was fine. She relaxed into the kiss, feeling Flynn's hands still on her breasts, massaging gently, fingers rubbing over her stiffening nipples. What a strange sensation of skin-on-skin. The first shock had faded to a pleasant warmth that traveled through her and made her heart pound. Flynn could probably feel how quickly it was beating. She had to be able to.

"Yuri?" Kisses traveled across her cheek, to the curve of her jaw. She turned her head in keeping with their trail and felt Flynn's breath on her earlobe a second before the touch of her lips. "You can touch me, too, you know. It's all right. Welcome, in fact."

Freeing up a hand from beneath Yuri's shirt, Flynn gathered up her hair, brushing it aside to expose her neck and kiss her way down to Yuri's shoulder. Yuri shivered—whether from the kisses or the lost warmth or the suggestion, she wasn't sure. Her hands had curled into fists against Flynn's back. There had been nothing to grab onto except the sagging bra.

Slipping a finger into the collar of Yuri's t-shirt, Flynn tugged briefly before letting it flop back against her skin. She'd run out of room to trail kisses and now sat back and uncrossed her legs from around Yuri's. She planted her hands on the bedspread, and the motion stretched her bra taut across her once more. It caught up beneath her breasts, no longer containing them, but holding them up for show as she pulled herself further onto the bed. When she sat straight once more, the bra slipped down her arms and she let it fall into her lap before picking it up and tossing it away. She'd turned her face briefly to watch it fly to the end of the bed. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes seemed a darker, deeper blue. Drowning depth, Yuri thought as Flynn looked back to her and she fell into those eyes.

Crawling up onto the bed, Yuri knelt between Flynn's legs. She looked... God, she looked so _different_, somehow, stockings on spread legs, breasts bared for the first time Yuri had ever seen. She didn't start again with hands and fingers, but leaned in and kissed Flynn, thanking her without words for her trust and how patient she'd been to wait for this. Yuri pressed in, just a little closer, and suddenly there was no room between Flynn's breasts and hers. The accidental brush sent a spark straight down her spine as she broke the kiss and sat back. Flynn had asked her to touch, so...

She started at Flynn's waist again, pinkies grazing the tight hem of black nylon. As she drew her fingers up over stomach and sides, she watched for the little shivers to run through Flynn and gained courage when she saw them. She kept going, ignoring the anxiety swirling in her stomach.

Her palms were damp. Her fingers skipped and caught against Flynn's skin, so Yuri curled them in, ran the backs of her fingers up to the soft curve of Flynn's breasts. They were larger than her own, heavy and warm over her knuckles, and her hands blossomed beneath them, turning to cup, fingers splaying to encompass.

Flynn's breath was coming quicker. She was watching Yuri, gaze fixed on her with such intensity that Yuri could only return her look for a moment's glance. Her attention was drawn quickly back to the fullness of Flynn's breasts in her hands, the dusky rose of her nipples, already pert, waiting. Copying the way Flynn had touched her, Yuri brushed a thumb over one nipple. Flynn sucked in a breath, and it was mesmerizing to watch the way she moved. She rubbed little circles, watched Flynn roll her shoulders back to push her chest forward. Her eyelids drooped until they were half closed over hints of sky.

On impulse, Yuri leaned forward to kiss the hollow of her throat. She kissed a line straight down, stopping when her cheeks were between Flynn's breasts. Her skin smelled faintly of sweat, of fading deodorant and detergent. Sneaking a glance up, she met Flynn's eyes and saw the soft smile that briefly pressed her parted lips together. It was plenty to encourage her on. She turned her face, traced the hemisphere of Flynn's left breast with her lips, felt its velvet softness, felt the bud of her nipple. She rubbed her pursed lips over and around it, getting a sense for the texture. Flynn's breathing was audible. She was trembling very slightly. Yuri parted her lips and flicked her tongue over her nipple.

The noise Flynn made would have been a whimper if it had come from anyone else, but Flynn didn't whimper. Yuri looked up at her, curiously. Her head was tilted back. Her hands clutched fistfulls of the sheets. Slowly, Yuri lowered her head, watching as her hair slid across Flynn's skin. She kissed this time, a slow, sucking kiss, being careful to keep her teeth out of the way. Flynn tasted different, the perfumed hint of makeup and melon chapstick having been replaced by a faint taste of sweat-salt. She squirmed beneath Yuri, arching her back a bit more, pushing her hips closer.

Yuri smiled against her skin, gratified to know she was getting it right. Turning her head, she kissed her way back across Flynn's chest, lifting a hand to take over where she'd left off. She was gentle and careful, mimicking what Flynn had done earlier. Although she felt the urge to pinch, to nip playfully and see how Flynn would react, she kept her touches soft. Flynn didn't mind when she got a bit rough while making out, but this was different. This was more intimate. This was something new. Yearning and stubbornness were what had kept her pushing forward when her nameless anxiety would have held her back, and she didn't want to fuck up. Her heart was racing, and she felt a burst of euphoria as she thought that perhaps she had conquered those impulses to shut herself away from Flynn, those shapeless fears that had restricted them thus far to the innocence of kisses and stray touches through clothes.

All in all, she was doing well—so well—and then Flynn surged forward, catching her up in a hug and tackling her back onto the sheets with a bounce and the soft 'fwump!' of bedding. She was straddling Yuri's waist, cradling her head in her hands, fingers stroking along Yuri's hair as she kissed her so deeply and let her breasts hang down to brush against Yuri's. Her toes kneaded the air, rubbing up against Yuri's legs with each tiny movement. When she sat back, it was with that same suddenness, and she grabbed the hem of Yuri's t-shirt and yanked it up, working it out from under her back. Caught up, head still spinning from the desperation of the kiss, Yuri was raising her arms to shimmy out of it before she quite realized what was happening.

All at once, she found herself naked to the waist and Flynn was settling once more on top of her, familiar and strange without the barrier of clothes. Grasping for what she knew, she clung to Flynn, kissing her hastily, clumsily, trying to work her thundering heart back into the rhythm they could find in languid kisses and arms wrapped around each other. Flynn's breasts were squished against hers, and it was their movement that massaged now, punctuated by the brush of her nipples as she rubbed against Yuri.

What had been nice and simple at first, what she had been fascinated to explore was now coming a bit quickly, was turning into a bit too much, but Yuri swallowed back her protests and squeezed Flynn tighter, kissed her more desperately. It was fine. It was Flynn with her, just Flynn, it was fine. The words broke up in her mind, smashed apart by the movement of tongues, the press of flesh, the shivers that ran up her spine, and the heat pooling between her legs. She grasped for thoughts of reassurance, and was left gasping for air as Flynn began kissing down her neck.

Mirroring Yuri's earlier progress, Flynn dropped kisses like warm rain in a line straight down her body. She kissed each of Yuri's nipples, and closed her teeth gently around one. It was enough to make Yuri gasp and nearly sit up off the mattress beneath her. Instead, she lifted a hand to her mouth, holding back protests that didn't make any sense. She trusted Flynn! She wanted to be with her! What the hell was there to be scared about?

Flynn's kisses continued lower, flanked by the touch of her hands, soft and feather-light. Yuri could have sat up and shoved her back. It wouldn't have taken anything but a thought. She clamped down on the impulse, trying not to squirm as the heat of Flynn's mouth crept closer to the waistline of her shorts. She hadn't realized she'd been making noises until she heard Flynn's name in her voice, a strangled squeak that humiliated her with its weakness. She bit down on her hand to muffle herself, and only then realized that the kisses had stopped.

"Yuri?"

Concern rounded out Flynn's voice, and Yuri couldn't even look at her. She'd spoiled it, _again_, and hadn't even been able to come up with an excuse to get away before it had all gone to hell. It was only _sex_, damn it! Couples did it all the time! It was normal, natural! It felt _good_! So why the hell couldn't she stop shaking?

With a quiet sigh, Flynn crawled off her without touching and got up off the bed. Wordlessly, she pulled a corner of the covers up to fold over Yuri who curled onto her side, clutching the sheet to her chest. She watched as Flynn picked her blouse up off the floor and draped it over her shoulders before kneeling down beside the bed.

"Yuri? Are you all right?"

Obviously not, but if she didn't understand her own anxieties, how was she supposed to explain them to Flynn? She stared at the sheets, unable to answer.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No!" That had been an easy one, and her gaze snapped up to meet Flynn's. "It wasn't... I _want_ to, I just..."

There was relief in Flynn's expression as she reached up to stroke Yuri's hair away from her face. It was ridiculous how context could make that simple action so calming.

"If you're not ready, you should have just said so."

"I—! We've been going out for a _month_ already!"

"Oh, _I'm_ sorry." There was the ghost of a laugh in her voice. "I forgot we were on a schedule. Would you feel better if we rearranged—took a romantic getaway together first and saved this for later?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds stupid," Yuri grumbled. She _felt_ stupid: stupid for trying to rush, stupid for getting hung up on the idea.

Flynn smiled and, though it was soft, it still crinkled up the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward and rested her forehead against Yuri's. Her fingers still stroked reassuringly through her hair.

"It's okay to wait," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"What if I don't _want_ to wait?"

"Then you need to tell me exactly when to slow down so we don't ruin your first time." She rapped Yuri lightly on the head. "Idiot. Why do you always have to make things harder for yourself?"

"I want to _be_ with you." She held Flynn's gaze, needing to be sure Flynn knew she was serious.

"You said that already. Do you think I don't believe you? Yuri, you don't have to prove yourself to me. Is that why you're pushing yourself?"

"No." Not exactly. She wasn't trying to prove it to Flynn, but to herself. She'd only been trying to vanquish her insecurities. Fat lot of good that had done.

"It'll be okay," Flynn said, ruffling her hair. "We'll get there in time. No need to rush."

Yuri nodded. No way was she going to let that anxiety get the better of her forever.


End file.
